Saying Goodbye
by Leria006
Summary: John needed to get going, if he stayed much longer Sam would get back before he could leave and then he'd have a right holy mess on his hands. Tag for In My Time Of Dying.


Okay, here is my take on what might have been going through John's head during In My Time Of Dying.

So, if you have not watched that episode(for whatever reason), this will not make sense.

Do not own and making no money.

Please enjoy. ^_^

* * *

Stillness.

A lack of movement.

An absence of sound.

All of it was just so wrong.

And it was all John was surrounded by. He'd come into his eldest's hospital room after he'd sent Sam after the Colt and the Impala. He truly hoped Bobby wouldn't tell Sam what those ingredients were really for, which he knew was a very real possibility. Especially since Sam was rather astute at noticing off behavior. But for now he should say something, anything to his first born. Only there was nothing to say.

No.

That wasn't true.

There was plenty to say, he just couldn't bring himself to say any of it. To voice out loud the cacophony of dismay, despair and grief was not something John Winchester could bring himself to do.

He shouldn't be sitting in this hospital room watching his son breath through tubes, wires and IV lines snaking around his body. It couldn't be real because...

Because _this_ wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Not when that Son of Bitch planned...

That yellow eyed bastard wanted his son, but John wasn't going to give him Sammy. He was going to prevent that at all costs.

Only problem was he could see only one way, with as high and as close to a guarantee as possible, to go about saving his youngest son. He should have said something before Sam left, should have told him that he did know something about what the demon was planning.

But so many years of protecting, of preventing the loss of innocence from at least one of his boys was too ingrained in him. Even with all of their fighting he'd taken solace in the fact that Sam was independent enough, strong enough, determined enough, to demand what he wanted and to do what was needed to get it.

It was one of the many things he'd cheated his oldest out of, one of the many _mistakes_ he'd made with Dean.

_God, Dean._ _What did I let happen?_ He thought as he watched his son's chest rise and fall.

He'd known as Sammy grew how deeply Dean was taking his responsibilities towards Sam. Both the responsibilities John gave and the ones Dean took on for himself. John had seen how Dean didn't even need to be told that Sammy had to be protected, from both external and internal forces.

When Sam had started asking questions about their life, their mom, his job, he'd barely had to say anything to Dean about keeping the truth from Sam. John had felt that it had been important to keep one son innocent, his one effort to keep Mary alive in some tangible fashion.

Despite this he had accepted that someday they would have to tell Sam, it was inevitable with their lifestyle. He'd prepared for that day in fact.

Nonetheless he'd still been thrown off guard a little after learning that Sam had figured it out, stolen his journal to confirm his suspicions, and all but cornered Dean and made him admit to the truth. That Christmas he had been just as much relieved as chagrined.

Dean had handled things far too well really, with a maturity that he shouldn't have had at the tender age of 12. Dean had grown up so fast, and John sometimes wondered how he'd been blessed with such an amazing son.

The pride he felt for Dean was so strong at times it ached. Now he simply wished Dean would look at him, demand to know what was going on, and ask for Sammy, for his baby brother.

He'd told Sam they would look for a way to save Dean since the doctors weren't sure that he was going to make it. In fact they had pretty much written him off already.

John blinked, holding back the tears that were gathering against his will.

No one wrote off a Winchester.

Especially not Dean. He needed Sam to come back with his list of supplies. While he wouldn't tell Sam, he knew, deep in his heart, that there was only one way to guarantee Dean's recovery.

And maybe save his youngest too.

* * *

He told him.

Bobby fucking told him.

He should have known. Hell, he _had_ known but it had been a risk he'd had to take. There was simply no other way to get what he needed in time.

Still, he wished that he could do something other than argue with Sam. The boy had the wrong conclusion, though John could see how Sam would come to that point, and really he couldn't blame his son for it. However, there would be no macho showdown.

Not today at any rate.

When the time did come for that showdown now, well...

The only important thing right now was that he needed to keep his boys alive.

Everything was so messed up. He shifted his shoulder, trying to ease his arm into a comfortable position. But the physical pain in his arm was nothing to the pain in his heart. It was tearing into tiny pieces and he was holding onto the hope that it would last long enough for him to do what needed to be done.

If he was being honest with himself he was not overly confident about his _plan_, but it was all he could think of.

There was not time to think of anything else.

Sammy would want to be a part of his plan if he knew what it was, and John absolutely could not have that. So when Sam accused him of caring only about the hunt he'd latched onto the old argument with desperate ease.

"I'd rather have you hate me right now than the alternative." He whispered, his eyes on the broken glass and water on the floor of his bland hospital room.

John didn't know where the certainty came from but he knew that Dean had broken that glass. There was no one else who would have bothered to come between him and Sam during one of their many arguments.

The eldest Winchester cracked a wry grin suddenly, realizing that even when he couldn't be seen Dean was stepping between them and trying to make peace.

Peace, it was more than he could hope for even if his plan worked, but at the very least it gave the Winchesters a better fighting chance.

He simply had to convince himself of that. For now he would wait for Sam to come back and tell him what was going on down the hall.

There was a chance that the emergency was not because of Dean. There were several other people in critical condition on this floor. Any one of them could be the cause of that alarm.

But inside he knew that he was deluding himself.

He would have to be blind to not notice that his family was being destroyed. The demon was only a part of the problem, the catalyst perhaps but not the only reason. At the moment Dean was dying, the doctors could soften the truth as much as they wanted but even they could see the writing on the wall.

As for Sam, he was breaking on the inside and if Dean did die he'd leave with his brother.

Oh, he would still be there, he'd go through the motions of living his life, but he would be dead. And that would make it all the more easy for that Bastard of a demon to do with Sam what he wanted.

John was beginning to realize that they'd been screwed since Meg had called, demanded the colt and killed Caleb.

It was simply typical Winchester luck.

At the moment however, none of that mattered. The demon had gotten the upper hand, if indeed he'd ever lost it, and now John was determined to find a way to gain it back.

First things first, he needed to know that Dean was holding on, because if he didn't than this half-assed plan didn't have a snowballs chance in hell.

* * *

Pulling his jacket on, careful not to mess his shoulder up much more than it already was John grabbed the bag and exited his room. His leg was stiff but he walked with only the barest hint of a limp, Sam had good aim.

He felt insanely guilty. A feeling he felt most often after confrontations with his youngest.

Not that the most recent conversation could be given the lofty title of such an event. It had actually been rather sensible. After confirming that Dean was out of the woods for the moment, though it had been a close call, he'd had further evidence added that Dean was out and about.

This was both a good and a bad thing.

The biggest problem was that it meant that his crazy plan was, unfortunately, probably the only plan that might work to save Dean.

However, realizing how close the most recent near death experience had been for his boy, John knew he had to act now. He couldn't hesitate and he couldn't let the look on Sammy's face deter him.

Sam had been determined about something when he walked out of the room, desperation to be of some use burning in his hazel eyes as he seemed convinced finally that there was something that he could accomplish to help his big brother.

The urge to confess to Sammy what he was thinking of doing, of perhaps getting Sammy to help him was suddenly overwhelming and he actually called Sam back before he could stop himself.

The protect Sammy program had kicked in when he locked eyes with Sam and he'd known he couldn't _tell_, but perhaps he could give his boy something.

Sam had been relieved when he'd promised not to continue the hunt for the demon until they knew that Dean would be okay, he could see it in the slight relaxation in the boy's shoulders and tiny smile that had graced his face, and he nearly kicked himself. The next time Sam would come back to this room he was going to be royally pissed. He'd simply assume that John had only said that to get his father to stop yelling at him about it.

John sighed as he descended the hospital stairs towards the boiler room. There was nothing he could do about it now, and he knew he wouldn't even if there was. He was doing this for Dean _and _Sammy, only he knew Sam wouldn't see that until it would be too late.

He entered the boiler room carefully, setting out his supplies and writing the symbols on the floor. This place wasn't really ideal but it was the only place he could think of where he might have enough space to perform the ritual uninterrupted.

Come hell or high water he was going to save his sons the only way he knew how.

* * *

He'd been right. The moment he walked into the room to see if the demon had kept his end of the bargain the first thing Sam had asked was where he'd been. Even though he'd been expecting it, anticipating the hurt and accusatory tone only Sam could pull off he had not been fully prepared.

For a brief moment John flashed back to when his kids were still kids and he was butting heads with his youngest over something he'd forget about the next day but knew his son wouldn't. And Dean...

Well Dean was stuck in that damn hospital bed trying to stop a fight that shouldn't be happening. But for once John was in agreement with Dean and John was determined _not_ to spend his last moments going toe to toe with Sammy, not entirely because he didn't know who'd give in first.

He had something he had to tell Dean, had to let him know.

Then he had to go.

The coffee was the only way he could think of to get Sam out without letting things escalate to the inevitable fight, but he sorely wished that the last time he saw that boy he wasn't being stared at like he had an extra head.

His behavior was off, John knew it and Sam was aware too, had been aware for a while now. He picked up on stuff like that quicker than Dean, but Dean would realize it soon enough.

John turned and watched his youngest leave, hesitant and concerned but ignorant of the one piece of information that would have kept him there. John wanted it that way, even now he was protecting what little bit of Sam's innocence he could.

It was the only way he could think of to help Dean with Sam.

He was being selfish. He knew this, but he wasn't about to change his mind.

Not that that was really an option by this point.

He wished that there was some way to make this easier; he wasn't going to try for better. He was a Winchester after all.

When Dean said he was scaring him, sounding all of five years old John almost backed down, almost kept the information a secret. But then he swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and leaned forward, whispering the words that he hoped would save his children.

Children, as in both of them, not just one.

Dean looked shell shocked as well as scared when he pulled away, and he couldn't blame him, not in the least. He tried to reassure his son, smiling through his blurred vision, capturing this moment as best he could. John was all too aware of what awaited him in his room.

John needed to get going, if he stayed much longer Sam would get back before he could leave and then he'd have a right holy mess on his hands.

Hoping that his eyes conveyed the message more than his words and that Dean would realize that he was truly sorry he turned away, one last time.

He almost stopped and looked back when he reached the door, but a slight hitch in his stride was the only indication to the bewildered and distraught boy behind him.

Turning the corner he headed towards the agreed upon spot. The demon was there, waiting, smiling and John wanted to punch him. Only he wouldn't.

The demon had held true to his word. Dean was okay, was going to be okay.

Now Sam had a chance. A chance to beat the destiny the bastard in front of him had planned. Because John had realized before Sammy had ever known about anything supernatural that it was Dean, not him, that was meant and able to protect Sam from whatever the world decided to throw at his youngest. His heart ached at the burden he was laying on his eldest, but it was a burden only Dean could bear and have any chance to win.

So, having done what he could to save _both_ his boys he faced the yellow eyed son of a bitch without hesitation. The demon had been true to its word. Now it was John's turn.

He placed the colt down.


End file.
